Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Hats were important.
That was one of the first things Law learnt in his life, way before the fire and crippling lies forged him into who he was now. Hats brought style and respect, a handful of confidence and the brim of shelter when the world was too much for a little aspiring doctor or a boy whose whole life has been just turned upside down.
Hats marked a new era, the end of a war, or a challenge to the world.
They could also mess up the years of painstaking plans Law prepared for one single meeting, now ebbing happily away under the fire of potential further delays.
Law was not amused.
The Racoon seemed to calm down for now, trudging sullenly after Law at his insistence on their road back to the stall.
Law had no actual guarantee for the immediate safety of Straw Hats right now. Still, he was certain that whatever he does, it won't be as risky as returning to the ship empty-handed and letting Racoon's friends sort out this mess.
Despite early hour, some of the stands were half packed already. They found the toy stall in question, but it appeared to be near its' close as well. Two sets of boxes filled with toys and awaiting removal by the nearby wheel cart. Turning nonchanlantly into the now all familiar alley, Law scanned his surroundings for any indications of troubles. They had a bag back and there was a high chance that attendant lied about the hat – those things sell better in sets.
Law doubted any bounty hunter would consider them returning to this place. Better safe than sorry, though.
The alley was empty. Law dropped his own bag and reached for Kikkoku before the Racoon at his heels confirmed that no scent of others' presence he sniffed in the alley.
"Scan."
Fluorescent light fought off the dim of the backstreet. Racoon watched, mesmerised as the blade was swung slowly to the side. Law's felt the corners of his mouth turn up.
"Amazing!" Racoon's eyes lit up. Couldn't you do this earlier on?" He turned back to Law, who was caught by the sudden question.
A myriad of answers flitted through Law's mind. 'Scan entire city', he wanted to say. How much energy Law would've wasted this way? With local thugs out for their heads, such waste would be unacceptable. Besides, as eccentric as this port was, there was no way everyone would have ignored a shining rod being waved around the streets, especially with hunters on the lookout.
"This technique works more accurate on small spheres," he chose to say at last. His eyes were not leaving a single spark from the other side of the street. It was shining slightly through the mountain of packages and attendant's turned away back.
Law beckoned the item to appear in his hand.
Nothing happened.
Nothing happened.
No hat in Law's hand, the little sparkle as far away as it had been moments ago.
The racoon was looking between him and the dot of light, clearly waiting for punch line.
Twitch. Law tried again, to no avail. Were his powers not working?
"..it's no use." He pushed away irritation at mounting up complications, lowering his hand. The Racoon looked confused for a moment, but chose not to ask questions.
Law glared at the offending light in the distance, grasping for explanation.
"Something's in the way," he decided. That was all he could think of, with the symptoms at hand. His powers has never failed him this way before. They were one step away from collecting the final element, and they were running out of time.
There was only one choice left. With a swift movement, Law sheathed nodachi and made his way towards the stand, ignoring the frantic reindeer behind him. The Racoon looked panicked, but halted just outside of the alley. A hushed voices greeted him as he approached his target – half-boxed heap of accessories.
"-ow or anytime. Just say a word."
"I will be fine, thank you. It's bad enough that you're going behind bosses' backs. There is no need for you to risk more." A female voice, raising barely above the street noise level. Law leant against the display, seemingly admiring the unreachable goods left sprawled over the shelves.
"I hope he'll like it." A male voice, attendant's. The words came from a closer distance now and Law cast a quick glance sideways in search of potential witnesses. All busy. Good.
With a quick jab, he grabbed the offending, still shining article and stashed it underneath his oversized coat. Ten feet across the street away, the Racoon was still trying to hide just behind the corner (and failing spectacularly. Thankfully, his current height made him unlikely target of anyone's attention). He still stepped aside to make some room for a human, clearly anxious.
Soft fabric in his palms, Law took out the trophy-
-and stared.
Red ribbons dangled off the acquired hat, zigzagging across the bright orange and yellow background. Green spots has marked the brim. Although the round contours agreed with Law's primary target, that was where all of the similarities ended.
What in the world…?
The Racoon was staring at the hat, mouth agape.
Damn it. Another room, another scan. Racoon's bag glowed slightly under the spell, just like expected. So it wasn't a matter of place. It was something else that was messing with Law's abilities.
It was something on that stall.
He swivelled back to the exit. A short, dark-skinned woman was making her way from the stall. The attendant followed her for a brief time, but staying within his possessions' range.
Striking similarities of physical features between the two were all that Law needed to know. His focus returned to the bag the woman was carrying.
The attendant watched her leave and turned to look up and down the street. Instinctively, Law and Chopper shrank back into the alley.
"Can you track her?" hissed Law to the reindeer. Attendant was still out there, vigilant, and they were losing the eye contact with his sister.
It was a long shot, but the only one they had and Law's subconsciousness was screaming at him to take it. Law gritted his teeth to the memory of scathing failure and Dressrosa's countdown.
He had to explain this.
"The scent should be fresh. I'll follow it with no problem. Unless it starts raining…" The Racoon looked over the wall as the attendant returned to his tasks. The woman was gone, but it didn't seem to throw Straw Hat off the tracks. "Follow me"
It took them a bit of time, with Racoon occasionally loosing the trail in the influx of scents and backtracking. Thankfully they were still making progress despite occasional 'turn back's and 'try again's. Their journey led them through the trade district, by crowded bars and noisy shops. Luck was on their side, as whatever perfumes the woman was using (the Racoon was torn between spices and some medicines, actually), were apparently enough to mark her presence and lead them on their search.
Or maybe It wasn't luck. Maybe it was a trap, but at this point Law was happy to either meet their opponents head on rather than waste his time looking for clues.
Or getting other Straw Hats involved. Law couldn't be late.
He was halfway through the revision of his schedule when he nearly walked into the Racoon who in the meantime has stopped. "What?"
"The track ends here," said the reindeer. His travel form could, in the dim streetlight, pass for a small pony or a really big dog. Law wished he knew sooner about his other forms. "She went inside."
They looked up to see definitely abandoned building - an unkempt house with hints of once burnt down pub at the ground floor.
The inside presented itself no better – mouldy walls and empty floor were littered with glass and splinters of fittings. Damp scent lingered the air.
"Can you follow the trail here?" Law glanced down at the still sniffing Racoon. The reindeer's face was scrunched either in discomfort of suffocating smell or an effort of distinguishing the trail. He nodded, nevertheless.
The half rotten doors gave up under the pressure and another room came to their view.
A storage room.
There was nothing exciting here either, though. Law walked pass the empty shelves and busted barrels. Rusty barrel hoops and bilges littered the corners.
"It stops here for good." The Racoon shook his head morosely, stopping in the middle of the expanse. Law held back a curse. A middle of the room was not a promising vanishing point. Unless…
He crouched down, gesturing for a Racoon to step aside. Calloused fingers brushed the texture of the – definitely filthy – floor in search of scratches, dents or any other giveaways of what he was looking for.
Luzie's port was old, and such was this building. For a businessman setting up at such a pirate-infested island, a proper safeguard against looting was a must.
Law's palms caught a breach in the surface – the Racoon gasped and staggered back as the lid was pulled up to reveal stairs leading to a dark tunnel below.
Law grinned mirthlessly. It all started to add up. It was kind of nostalgic, actually - a callback to Law's early days under Doflamingo's tutelage. He had pretty good idea now what – or rather, whom – they were dealing with.
He landed down in the tunnel to the splosh of water and a feeble draught teasing at his exposed neck. The tunnel ran both directions, but Law knew better than rely on stroke of luck if other option was available. "Better now?" He turned to his companion. Racoon was back in his mini form, but continued sniffing was all the answer Law needed to be reassured.
"I never thought that someone would choose to live here," said Racoon quietly. "This place is stale."
"This is not a house." A glimmering light washed over the narrow walls, as flare started to warm Law's hand. Submarine habits – it always paid off to have emergency flashlight. "Consider it a corridor." Law knew what to expect. He has been in similar places before, where a tiny build and unassuming posture made him an excellent messenger and spy.
Who would've thought that this experience will come handy now, years after rejecting Doflamingo's flag.
They took a turn and saw the end of the corridor. It was lined with an orange glow leaking from behind the curtain, swaying gently in drought. The air was warmer and the scent of mould was strangely less pronounced. Now, all he had to do was to cross the buffor area…
The light flooded their vision between the heartbeats of recognition and realisation, Law took in the details of the room, letting the curtain drop back in its place and reaching towards his weapon.
And froze.
A bright-eyed kid seated in an all too big bed and was eyeing them curiously with feverish eyes. A telltale red and blue hat was titled haphazardly over his forehead. Short, blonde hair peeked from under the brim.
"My hat!" gasped the Racoon and that was, more or less, all Law managed to hear or do before something slammed into him and threw him onto the floor. Vaguely, he heard Racoon's alarmed outcry. Something cold pressed into Law's neck and simultaneously he felt his strength draining.
A seastone jitte?
"They say that money is in the streets, but I never thought it will come knocking at my doors." A head came into Law's view out of the solstice of lamp. The attendant's sister looked wary and every bit pissed Law would've expected her to be in this situation.
He has miscalculated. Yet, that seemed inconsequential for now as all Law could do was to not tear his eyes off the boy in the bed.
Law needed no second opinion. He would've recognised the symptoms everywhere, anytime.
Why now?
Out of all the places and diseases he could encounter, this just had to be this one, a mere days away from tearing his old wounds again.
"Well?"
White flakes coming into pure spots like an icy promise of death. Law knew it all too well. He spent years counting them up on his own body.
Amber Lead poisoning.